Batan stood there with a calm and collected demeanor, exuding an impressive aura.
His eyes were as sharp as an eagle's, and his arms rippled with muscle, extraordinarily robust. He had the blood of the nomads from the plains; he was the archery champion of the latest National Sports Games!
He slowly placed an arrow on the bowstring and drew the bow fully—
The crowd wore easy smiles, without a hint of nervousness, because with Batan's level of skill, missing the target was out of the question!
Bao'er, however, began to worry; after all, this was an arrow to be shot at an apple placed on someone's head, and if Batan were to make a mistake, the consequences could be very serious!
Moreover, Bao'er felt that Batan was not like her; their shooting speeds were worlds apart. If Batan made a mistake, could Zhao Yang really catch his arrow?
"Whoosh!" The arrow left the string at high velocity, as fast and abrupt as the one Zhao Yang had shot before!
